Time Reveals All Things
by SNIVELLUSisGOD
Summary: Tempus Omnia Revelat. Harry spills his heart out on a piece of parchment in a drunken haze. Draco stumbles upon the un addressed letter and replies, unaware of whom he is revealing his deepest secrets to. HD COMPLETE
1. A Late Night

Chapter 1

* * *

Don't blink. Everyone's watching. 

They'll think that you're up to something. 

They need for you to be everything that 

they cannot be themselves. 

Dashboard Confessional - Morning Calls 

* * *

_Harry Potter downed the contents of the steaming glass in a single gulp. He felt the fiery liquid slither down his throat like a burning serpent of the Devil's creation._

The last day of Christmas vacation was drawing to a close. A silence lay over the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A slim, raven-haired man was uncouthly stumbling through the long hallways and ever-changing staircases. It was nearly midnight and Harry Potter was the only person not dreaming away in his four-poster bed. He defiantly ignored the portraitof a rail-thin woman in a silk, green dress that coughed in a way that sounded much like the word 'hooligan.' 

He had just entered the seventh floor corridor when he heard a cat-like shriek echo through the hall. Fearing apprehension, he clumsily sprinted to the familiar stretch of blank wall. 

He tripped through the magical door landing flat on his face. In his drunken haze he didn't appreciate the room for how magnificent it was. The room was dimly lit by an enormous fireplace filled with flames licking each other merrily. There was a beautiful, dark, mahogany bed with a down mattress and a plush comforter located in the center of the room. By the look of it,he would have to leap to get on it. The first thing Harry took notice of was a quaint writing desk in the corner, quill and parchment at hand. 

Harry walked to the desk and slumped down in an old-fashioned arm chair. Suddenly, his mind was clearer than ever before. As the fuzziness temporarily subsided, he knew what he had to do to partially lift the burden that weighed him down for so long. Writing this letter, to only Merlin knows who, was like extracting a lethal poison from his bloodstream that was slowly killing him inside. The words seemed to flood out of the quill as he hastily scribbled them down. With the wall built around him knocked down by his drunken perception, he spilled out the contents of his soul ona single piece of parchment. He wrote down things that he never dared to say out loud... Thing he never dared, not even in his wildest dreams, to reveal. 

Harry wrote until his thoughts because incoherent and his handwriting not legible. Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he got into bed and was asleep before his head hit the soft, feather pillow.

* * *

A thick layer of snow covered the grounds throughout the night. Harry gazed out at the blinding white thinking about the letter he had found on the desk that he had no recollection of writing. He was, in short, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He wondered what in Merlin's name possessed him to write such things. _I was drunk,_ he thought desperately,_ I didn't mean a word._ He knew he was lying to himself, but he wasn't ready to admit it. Everything he read was perfectly true... Not a word was inaccurate... And he was ashamed of it. _Cowardly. Weak. Vulnerable._ He didn't want to be what everyone else wanted him to be, and he loathed himself for it. 

Harry punched the glass in rage, although he immediately regretted it. His knuckles began to throb, matching his alcohol induced headache. 

"Just perfect," Harry muttered angrily. He stomped to the large fireplace where the embers were still glowing hypnotically. 

Morning came and went. He exited the Room of Requirement, roughly stuffing the offending parchment in his pocket, as if trying to punish it. He had previously made plans to meet Ron and Hermione in the Common Room that afternoon; they were returningfromtheir respective homes today. They begged Harry to stay withthem over Christmas break, but he declined, convincing them that he would be fine staying a Hogwarts by himself. Harry just wanted some time alone. 

The corridors were cold because of the weather, causing Harry to shove his hands is his pockets before even setting a foot down the stair case. He walked the familiar path to the Gryffndor Tower, said the password to the Fat Lady (Gumbumble), and readied himself for the arrival of his two best mates. 

As three o'clock neared Harry slipped on the mask that he so expertly wore, and he became the Harry that everyone knew. The reunion with his friends was a joyous affair. There was a lot of hugs, more laughs than can be counted, and too much butter beer (much to mild for Harry's taste). Ron and Hermione's arrival temporarilydrove the parchment, that was supposed to being in Harry's left pocket, out of his mind.

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A/N: 

Please review!Tons and tons of cookies for those who review! Ireally want to know what I am doing horribly so I can improve. Regular updates, at least weekly, sometimes sooner. 

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	2. By the lake

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, although I very much wish I did.

**Warning:** Will contain slash (boy/boy lovin')

**A/N:** Hello! Thanks for the single lovely review, I appreciated it. Reviews encourage me to write more. The last chapter was really short so I tried to make this one longer. I don't like this chapter much, but I hope you all do. Enjoy!

* * *

Though the sparkle is gone, your smile is in place,

so that everyone watching will see.

You've got them all convinced.

Dashboard Confessional - So Beautiful

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A solitary Draco exited the Great Hall, having just finished his dinner. Oddly enough, he wasn't flanked by Grabbe and Goyle. He walked around the castle seeking refuge from his half-wit body guards._ Do they not comprehend the word 'alone'?_ he thought to himself.

Bored of wandering mindlessly, he settled himself in a small niche below a horrendous dragon-shaped vase located on the seventh floor corridor. He was quite invisible to any passerby. Draco stared moodily at the wall across from him while fiddling with the strap of his designer bag. As he shifted positions he heard the sound of crumpling parchment beneath him. He pulled out the parchment and flattened it, expecting it to be someone's lost Potions assignment.

* * *

Draco reread the letter for probably the thousandth time that hour. He devoured the contents of the parchment, craving more, as if he were a starving dog who had found a few morsels. _People expect me to be a hero... unbeatable and resilient, but they have failed to notice that I'm merely human and already broken, _the last line read in barely legible script. As he read the letter, Draco felt not so isolated. There was another person, within these very walls, that was just like him... Someone that didn't wasn't to be what was expected of them... Someone who was sick of it all. He wished he could somehow reply to the person... He wanted to let them know that they weren't alone. But he couldn't, could he?

The blonde stood up awkwardly and headed down to the lake, somewhere where he was sure to get some privacy.

The moonlight bathed Hogwarts' ground in light. The illuminated snow glittered beautifully; the scene looked almost unreal as the lakes frozen surface reflected the moon's light. The trees' naked branches shook tumultuously as the violent winter winds blew.

Draco pulled his expensive, yet inefficient, cloak tighter as the harsh winds stung his exposed flesh. Most people would be seeking an escape from the cold weather, but this was his escape. He pulled a crushed pack of cigarettes out of the back pocket of his trousers, took one out, and lit it with the air of someone who knew what they were doing. This obviously wasn't the first time he came down to the lake for a smoke. He lifted the fag to his lips for the second time, inhaled deeply, and let the newfound serenity engulf him. After a few more long drags he flicked the cigarette, hearing an audible hiss as the snow put it out.

The usually aristocratic blonde searched for a spot at the foot of the tree that had a miniscule amount of snow. Finding a place, he slowly sat down, readying himself for the cold wetness. However, he still grimaced as the snow saturatedhis cloak.

What kind a person with any dignity what-so-everwould parade around telling his feelings to an unknown person, a person that could the bane of his existence for all he knew? Most definitely not a Malfoy thing to do. He could almost hear his father's voice echo is his mind. _Feelings are for weak people. People who wear their hearts on their sleeve never get far. You'll learn soon enough, it is better not to feel._ He winced as the remembered the malicious beatings he was forced to endure. _Do not cry. Do not let any sounds escape your lips. Do notfeel._ He shook his head trying to rid himself of thehorrid memories. _I told you not to cry! You will receive another lash for that. You disgust me, you filthy, weak, piece of scum. You are no son of mine. _But do I really care? he asked himself. _Not anymore..._

Draco replied to the letter, forgetting that it wasn't addressed to him the first place. To him, it was. It was meant for him. He needed it.

He was amazed at how good it felt and how east it was to write his emotions down... To reveal his secrets to a complete stranger. Knowing that he was defying his father, made him, in some twisted way, feel elated.

A frozen Draco stood up and quietly moaned at his aching muscles. He slowly made his way back up to the castle, hating making footprints is the freshly fallen snow. He quietly entered the school, not wanting to be caught out bed after curfew. The light was dim in the Entrance Hall; he looked up at the large clock and could barely make out the time. After a few moments up studying it, he came to the conclusion that it was just after midnight. He groaned. _Classes start today._

He silently walked to the seventh floor corridor. He placed the parchment where he found it and placed a few charms on it, ensuring that it wouldn't be read by anyone he didn't want to. He had already made the decision not to get his hopes up at the thought of somebody replying. He knew it was likely that what he wrote would never be read. He almost secretly wished it. Although, he did figure that the writer would come back and search for it._ If I wrote that_, he thought, _then I wouldn't want it lying around just anywhere._

_

* * *

_

As Draco was walking back to the dungeons a wave a regret rushed over him. _What the hell was I thinking?_ he asked himself._ I am an insensate coward, just as father always said. _He repetitively scolded himself for making himself so vulnerable... so open for scrutiny.

"Damn it!" he cried in rage as he kicked the wall forcefully.

"Oh, that is very sophisticated," said a portrait of a middle-age man with a graying, black goatee, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he raised a single eye-brow.

"Shut up. _Excelsior_,"Drace replied with a sneer.

The portrait granted entrance to Draco. He walked into the familiar, elegant Common Room. The sofas were made of a deep green velvet, as were the structured arm-chairs.Long, silk curtains covered the majority of the entirely stone walls. The roomed lacked windows, as they were underground, which made it very dark in the day time. The furniture was made of a dark, unidentifiable wood. An array of candles lit the room making it look eery. The room was, in one word, Gothic. Draco gave a small smile at the familiar setting. As far as he could see the room was empty. "Thank Salazar," he muttered to himself. He walked to an armchair near the fire, hoping to warm his numb body.

As if the Gods were trying to punish him for being so moronic, he heard something that made him want to disappear then and there. Footsteps.

"Draco!" A pug-faced Pansy Parkinson screeched in her annoyingly high-pitch voice. He cursed his misfortune.

"Where have you been? I have been looking for you since dinner. I thought we were going to, ahem, go do something." She interrogated in a whiney voice, not forgettinga suggestive wink at the end.

"Although I'm flattered," hegrimaced, "Where I go and what I dodoesn't appertain to you. So get a clue, and fuck off."

She opened her mouth in shock and let out an offended gasp. Pansy then marched up to her dormitory letting out a string of colorful curse words. Draco stared at her retreating back before standing up and heading to his own dorm.

Draco slept uneasily that night. He tossed, turned, andhad anumber of strange dreams.He felt sick to his stomachas he thought of the things he wrote. He showedtoo much of his real self, which is adangerous thing to do.

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**A/N:** You know you wand to review ;) Constructive criticism welcomed. Oh, and please tell me what you want to see happen. If I like your idea, maybe I'll incorporate it into the story.


	3. A Fight and a Reply

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing 

**Warning:** Will contain slash (boy/boy lovin') 

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! I updated pretty fast if I do say so myself ;) But don't get used to the one day updates; I was sick today so I had time to write.I hope you guys like this chapter. I tried to make this one longer than the last one. 

Oh, I need abeta (at the suggestion of a wonderful reviewer) So if you are willing please email me. I've never posted a story before or anything so you'll have to tell me how that whole thing works. 

**

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"Oh shit!" Harry exclaimed, quickly sitting up in his bed. He just realized that he had forgotten about the letter he wrote. He wiped a thin layer of sweat of his forehead with the back up his handand threw the tangled covers off of himself. He hastily got out of bed and began going threw his discarded robes that he had thrown unceremoniously in a pile on the floor. He almost immediately found that the letter was missing. As he threw on a pair of trousers, he glanced out of the window; it was still dark, meaning it was sometime in the wee hours of the morning. 

"Whatchu doin'?" Harry heard a sleepy Ron mumble from across the room. 

"Nothing, Ron. Go back to sleep," he replied in an innocent voice. 

He was about to step out the door when he heard Ron again. "Harry, where you doing?" _Damn it._ He sounded much more awake than before. 

"Nowhere, just go back to bed," he replied, trying to mask his frustration. 

Ron, not anywhere near sleep anymore, got out of bed, walked to the door, and leaned against the frame. 

"What's up with you, mate? You've been acting off lately and you're always sneaking out. Me and Hermione are worried about you. Mum was in a right state all during break. It seems like you never want to hang out anymore..." Ron finished with a hint of a blush grazing his cheeks. He was never one to talk about feelings and such; Hermione evidently put him up to having this talk with Harry. 

"I'm fine. Except it would be nice to be able to get some sleep," Harry said curtly, throwing himself back on his bed. 

"Don't you play that!" Ron said angrily. "I know you were about to leave so don't even try to lie about it. Where the hell do you have to be atthree A.M.?" He yelled, forgetting that he was supposed to being polite and caring. 

Harry, also getting worked up, was tired of everyone pretending like they care. _**All they want is to make sure their little hero is safe so I can save their asses once again,**_ he thought bitterly. He was thoroughly frustrated with the entire situation with Ron and wanted out. He got up and walked to the door. 

"Get out of my way." 

"No," Ron stated simply. 

"I said get the fuck out of my way!" 

"No," he repeated stubbornly. 

Before Harry realized what he was doing, he shoved Ron roughly, taking out his bottled up frustration on him. Ron, not one to take insults lightly, immediately shoved Harry back, just as hard. Harry raised his right fist and punched Ron in his large nose.Ron automatically brought his hand up to his face and wiped his nose lightly. He winced as he looked at the red, sticky substance that now covered his hands. He face grew a deep red and he launched himself at Harry, looking much like a lion as he did so. His arms flew everywhere punching whatever he could. Harry, the stronger of the two, held his own and fought back fiercely. 

The two men were roughly pulled apart by Dean and Neville, who were awoken by the argument preceding the fight. 

Harry saw that Ron sported two black eyes and by the look of it, a broken nose. Harry thought he had a busted lip, which was confirmed by the gooey, iron-tasting liquid that filled his mouth. He had also taken a blow to the head, resulting in the head-splitting migraine he was now experiencing. 

"Ger off me," Harry mumbled to Dean, attempting to push his hand off his shoulders while wheezing heavily. Dean quickly backed off. 

"I'm outta here," he said and shut the door with a slam. 

Harry walked to the seventh floor taking huge strides. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. Hot tears began to stain his flushed cheeks. He didn't cry because he wasphysically hurt or in anyway sad... he was just pissed off. _What makes him think he could tell me whatto do like that? Who the hell does he think he is? _

When the anger eventually subsidedhe began to fill a bit ashamed. He didn't exactly regret punching him, but he now didn't think it was the best idea either. Ron didn't really do much to deserve it... He just said the wrongs things at the wrong time. Harry began to dread the next time he would have to face him. 

Harry was too preoccupied with his thoughts to pay attention to where he was. He entered the corridor before he even realized it. His quarrel with Ron was temporarily forgotten as the letter drifted back into his mind. 

"Lumos" he whispered, hoping that Filch wasn't out. 

Harry thoroughly searched the corridor. Every time he saw a piece of parchment his hope soared, only to come crashing down to find that it wasn't what he was looking for. He leaned against the stone wall and slid down until he was sitting firmly upon the floor. _What if someone else found it?_ he thought. The thought horrified him to no end. As he sat there fatigue rushed over him. Against his will, he drifted off then and there. 

Harry woke a few hours later. He immediately shut his eyes after he opened them. The sun's bright light poured through the large windows, burning Harry's eyes. After a few moments of repetitive blinking he became used to the light. He realized that sometime during his sleep he must've fallen over because he was lying in a fetal position. Because of the way he was sitting, he could see into a small niche that he didn't notice in the dark. A piece of parchment was in the alcove. He smiled. _That has to be it. _He scrambled up quickly and picked it up. 

He cursed the parchment for not being what he wanted it to be and cursed himself for actually thinking it was. He started at the blank parchment, as if his gaze would somehow magically change it into his personal confessions. 

"Please," he begged out of pure desperation, not expecting anything to happen. 

Suddenly, emerald ink lines began to spread. They joined together forming words in a slanted, neat writing. 

It read: **What are the magic words?**

Harry, dumbfounded, immediately thought back to the Marauder's Map and Snape. He pulled out his wand and lightly touched the parchment while saying, "reveal your secret." 

As if being soaked up, the words faded and new ones formed,looking likean invisible hand was writing them. Harry was shocked. The words formed sentences, which formed paragraphs, which formed an entire letter -- for him. It wasn't addressed to him by name, but it was for him nevertheless. 

He read the story of a scared man, similar to himself, that had come across his own letter._ I guess someone finding it wasn't **so **bad,_ he thought. 

Harry heard voices,bringing him back to reality, and automatically got and went to the nearest boys' restroom. He removed his glasses, revealing an indent on the bridge of his nose from sleeping in them face down. He washed his face with freezing water, scrupulously scrubbing the dried blood. After a quick teeth-cleaning charmand a fruitless attempt at flattening his unruly hair, he headed to Gryffindor Tower to get his books. 

**

* * *

**

Harry, along with his books, entered the Great Hall for breakfast. He didn't meet Ron in the dorm but his luck seemed to have ran out there. He saw the man's flaming-red hair as soon as he looked at the table. As Harry neared him he noticed that he was injury-free, tired, and had a pissy look on his face. _What I expect? For him_ _to be positively glowing? _Wishing he had his Invisibility Cloak, he sat down beside Hermione. Throughout breakfast Ron ignored him defiantly. Hermione forced polite conversation, trying to trick them into conversing with each other. 

"Oh this is ridiculous!" she finally cried. She stood up and marched elsewhere. 

**

* * *

**

Harry tapped his quill impatiently, ignoring the glares he received from his classmates. He watched the clock in the back of the classroom, not listening to a word Flitwick said. Every class seemed to go by excruciatingly slow. All he wanted to do was read the letter again and reply. 

The thought that somebody read his intimate confessions still horrified him, but he became used to the idea. He was almost happy that they did. He now had a personal confident that he could tell anything to. It's queer how youhide things from yourclosest friends but spillare willing to spillyour heart out to a complete stranger. Maybe it is because of the fact that they don't know you so they can't judge you... Butthen again,they are the onlyones that really do know you. 

As the bell rang signaling dinner, Harry quickly stood up and walked to the Astronomy Tower. He would surely get some privacy there. 

Harry leaned against the thick, stone guard-rail. He was sucking on the end of his quill as he stared at the letter, wondering what he should write in his reply._This is hard for me to do because I was always taught not to feel,_the strangers replyread. Harry could almost not comprehend it. He, on the other hand, had so many things he wanted to say. He also could not understand how someone could be taught not to feel. Ever since he had entered the Wizarding World, he had always had people to love and to give love (or maybe it was just adoration)in return. He felt pity for the stranger. Harry almost wished he could hold the man (or at least he thought it was a man). 

Harry watched the last rays of sunlight fade away as he tucked his reply in his bag and reread the letter one last time, memorizing every word. He was still awed at the fact that somebody had written back. The words he read still echoing in his mind... 

_Nobody is going to play the violin when I die; I act like it doesn't bother me, but it does._

_

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**A/N: **Don't forget to review! 

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	4. Broom Rides

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** Eventual slash - Beware homophobes.

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews! You all have no idea how much I appreciate the comments. Please add constructive criticism; I want to improve so I can make reading it more enjoyable for you. I've been itching to write this chapter all week, but I don't think it came out too well... I'm also really sorry about the length of this chapter. I promise the next one will be longer.

And to answer **themoviewitch**'squestion -- Yes, I do have a loose plan for the story. I know the length, (10-15 chapters, for all of you who want to know) most of the main events, and the ending. But of course, if you want to see something happen then tell me. You never know, I may put it in the story.

I'm still in need of a beta, so email me if you are willing!

Sorry about the long author's note. On with the story...

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"You going to eat that?" Goyle asked Draco over dinner, gesturing to his Shepard's pie, as he roughly shoved the remaining bit of his own in his mouth.

"No," Draco replied shortly, pushing his plate in Goyle's direction. He sat appalled at the way he gorged himself, finishing the second plate in less then two minutes.

"You're disgusting," the blonde stated with an intense look of distaste on his face.

Goyle obviously had to suppress the urge to growl at Draco. It was common knowledge that Grabbe and Goyle were like well-trained dogs.

Draco eyes were transfixed of the bare portion of table in front of him. His thoughts drifted to the letter... The stupid letter than never should've been written. _Why did I do that?_ he asked himself a countless number of times. A momentary lapse in judgement, he dubbed it. He was just having a rough day. Yes, that's all. He was merely upset because his father wouldn't buy him those new dragon hide boots.

That was his excuse for now anyway.

"I fancy a broom ride." He stood up abruptly and left the Great Hall.

* * *

Broom rides are ideal for thinking. As the cool wind thrashes against your face and ruffles your hair, you are all alone with nothing but your thoughts. It is completely and utterly relaxing, unless of course you are in the middle of Quidditch match. There is no one there to kiss your ass, cower in your presence, or hex you on sight... No one to judge you, make preconceived notions about you, or hurt you.

Just you.

Draco, not paying attention, arrived at the Locker Room before he knew it. He changed into his thicker Quidditch robes to arm himself against the winter weather. He then got his broom out of his locker and headed out.

The ground made a crunching noise as he stepped onto the stale snow. He walked onto the field, not at all surprised to see that he was the only one there. Draco mounted his broom and took off.

He flew at the slow pace around the Quidditch Pitch, observing his surroundings. When sunset came, Draco halted. He stayed perfectly still as he sat suspended in mid-air. Words could not do the painfully beautifully sunset justice. The sun crept behind the clouds, lighting them up as if touched by fire. The rays of sunlight reached into the sky, as if trying to hang on to prevent the sun from being dragged behind the earth. The sky was a mixture of the most amazing colors: reds, golds, pinks, purples, and blues. Draco wondered how something so perfect could be untouched by magic. He could only sit in awe, begging the sublime moment to never end. Inevitably, it did. After spending a few precious moments in heaven, he abruptly came back down to earth.

He looked around, making sure the nobody saw him, _the_Draco Malfoy, admiring the sunset. He was thankfully, still alone. Draco slowly descended back down onto the snow-coveredground. He walked over to the stands and sat down on a cold bench. For the second time in the past two hours, he began to question himself endlessly.

_Since when do I enjoy sunsets? _he wandered. He feared he was becoming weak. Draco Malfoy, the heir of the Malfoy fortune, did not talk about feelings and watch sunsets. He enjoyed money and power. Those were the only things that mattered in the real world, _weren't they?_

Damn that stranger for bringing out a different side to him. Damn him for making him vulnerable. This wasn't him. What was it about this mysterious man that knocked down the facade he had so expertly built up around himself, keeping all others out? With a single letter it was all destroyed. Every thing he worked so hard against was undone with a piece of parchment.

_Maybe it was so easy becauseI always wanted it so badly to happen..._

Feeling considerably lighter because of what he finally admitted to himself, Draco walked back to the Locker Room to change and get his things. The sky was devoid of all clouds as the stars sparked. The night was crisp and clear. The wind nipped at his sensitive skin, making him hasten his steps.

He hurried into the room, taking his shirt of as he went.

Draco plunged his face into the tepid water; the running tap blocked out the sounds of the door opening and closing.

He looked up into the mirror. His usually gelled back hair was unusually disheveled and the veins in his eyes were red and very visible. He did not look too great. Then he saw a reflection in the mirror that was most definitely not his own. It was none other than Harry bloody Potter. He whipped around quickly.

Draco suddenly felt very exposed without his shirt nor wand.

His naked torso was littered with new and old scars: remnants of his beatings that he was told not to heal by magic. The reminders of the lessons he had to learn was not something that he wanted Potter to gawk at.

Draco looked at Potter's large, emerald eyes; they were eyeing a particularly large and nasty burn that was located on his lower abdomen, descending under the top of his trousers. Upon seeing where his eyes were looking, his hands instantly flung the fresh lesion.

"What the hell are you looking at, Potter?" he sneered, giving him a look a utmost loathing.

"Nothing, Malfoy," he replied, not so venomously. He turned and walked to his locker, pulling out a large bag. He left wordlessly.

_Who does he think he is looking at me like that. It's none of his business... The stupid mud-blood lover._

A very exhausted Draco walked back up to the castle. He intended on heading in early that night. He got far to little sleep the night before and had fallen asleep in three classes.

Before going to the dungeons, he made a pit-stop at the seventh-floor corridor. He found that the person did reply. With a rare grin on his face he made his way to his dormitory, excited at the thought of reading and replying once again.

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A/N: Once again, I am so sorry about the length.I hope you all liked the chapter. Please review!


	5. To meet or Not

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Warning:** Eventual slash.

**A/N:** I'm so sorry about the lack of updates. My computermessed upand unfortunatelytook a while to be fixed. I hate getting on lab tops, so I just avoided being on the computer all together. Anyway, on to the story:

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With each passing letter new secrets were learned, more confessions told, and the two strangers became closer and closer. They wrote of their bad childhoods and abusive guardians; their hatred for the fact the were pushed into the destiny they didn't want to fulfill; and their shared dislike for carrots. They spoke of the first kiss and last laugh, their so-called friends and their bad habits.

With all of the things they did tell, they were careful enough not to mention specifics. They never revealed something that would give away their identity.

Each knew more about the other than either of their most intimate friends. And now that they had each other, theirmates were often ignored. They could reveal things to each other that were more important than their name: secrets they never dreamed of telling. It was relieving to have someone to confide in, not worrying about the judgments they might pass.

Their anonymous relationship became a hopeless infatuation... An obsession. They were both falling for a complete stranger.

* * *

"--distinct color and odor. The cabbage smell is the reaction of the whortleberry juice mixing with the finely

chopped hemlock root. Who can tell me the properties of the hemlock root that cause such a reaction?"

Harry sat with his forehead resting on the palm of his hand and his mouth wide open attempting to pay attention. His attempts were fruitless; his mind just couldn't stay focused on the Fever Reducer Potion. The information seemed to go in one ear and slip out the other. His verdant eyes were set on the blonde-haired man sitting at the table adjacent to his own: Draco Malfoy.

"Potter!" Professor Snape barked vehemently as he slammed a book on Harry's table. "Answer my question."

"I don't know," he replied indifferently, Snape wasn't something he was particularly worried about at the moment.

"Too good to pay attention, I suppose?" Harry, too preoccupied to take his bait, simply stared at him with a bored expression on his face.

"Big surprise. Twenty points from Gryffndor for being inattentive, Potter," he said with a small sneer playing at the corners of his thin lips.

Snape's announcement earned a round of quiet snickers from the majority of the Slytherins.

"Twelve inches on the properties of hemlock root and their uses in potion making due next lesson," he said, obviously trying to suppress the urge to smirk, making him look constipated.

Harry inwardly moaned at the new assignment. He was falling behind in his class work and had already accumulated quite a large pile. The bell rang and Hermioneapproached him as he gathered his materials. His previous thoughts were temporarily pushed out of his mind.

"Harry, will you walk with me to lunch?" she asked, although it sounded much more like a command.

"Sure," he replied casually, bracing himself for a sure-to-come lecture.

"I'm worried about you, you know," she began, echoing Ron's words from a fortnight previously, "and so is Ron, even though he isn't acting like it at the moment. He is just still upset about the... you know... the fight. Anyway," she continued, taking a deep breath as they descended down the stairs. She went on and on the entire way to the Great Hall. "You never do your homework and you hardly even pay attention in class anymore and you don't even talk to me. I don't understand what is wrong," she finished.

_Of course you don't_, he thought mentally before replying, "Honestly, Hermione, I'm fine, just exhausted, that's all," he lied easily.

"Alright," she said in a somewhat convinced voice. "You know, I really wish you and Ron would start speaking again. It is driving me insane," she said, looking up at Harry with hopeful eyes.

"I'll give it a go," he said, knowing he would eventually agree anyway; Hermione was not one to give up easy.

With Hermione smiling brightly beside him, Harry entered the Great Hall, searching for the familiar mop of red hair.

"Hey, Ron," Harry said tentatively as he walked up behind the tall Weasley.

Word of their fight must've spread throughout the Tower because almost the entire Gryffndor Table fell silent, and those who were still talking were being hushed by the ones shamelessly eavesdropping.

"Harry," he replied curtly, acknowledging him with a nod.

Harry sat down beside and Ron and nervously cleared his throat. He was suddenly aware of how quiet everything was and desperately wished for some noise.

"Do you, erm, want to play some chess later?"

Ron looked at him for a moment with a questioning look on his face. He must've seen sincerity because hesoon replied,"Sure," with a very small, short-lived grin.

Harry mentally patted himself on the back._ A game well played._ He began to fill his plate.

* * *

All was quiet in the dormitory, as everyone except Harry slept soundly. He sat comfortably in the window seat with his arms wrapped around his bent legs and his forehead resting on the cold glass. He watched his warm breath temporarily fog up with window. Leaning back, he stared out onto the grounds, looking at the glistening snow. He sat like that for only-Merlin-knows how long.

Suddenly, a lone, dark figure venturing out of the castle into the frigid winds caught his gaze. The figure slowlywalked down to the lake. Why someone would journey out into the cold in the middle of the night was beyond his comprehension. As the moon's beams reflected beautifullyoff the surface of the lake, the light revealed the figure to be the very person Harry was thinking about. Althoughthe figure was very small and dark, Harry could recognized that platinum blonde hair anywhere.

Slightly surprised, Harry continued to watch him inquisitively out the window. Ever since their encounter, his attitude toward Malfoy had changed. Although he still very much despised him, his loathing was mingled with curiosity. He had multiple questions swimming around his head, begging to be answered. _What happened? Who did it?_ These were questions he expected never to be answered. He could hardly waltz up to Malfoy, start up a conversation about the weather, and then casually say,"Hey, where'd you get those scars?" _Yeah, great plan_, he thought sarcastically. He desperately tried not to care, it was Malfoy after all, but his attempts were in vain.

Surprisingly, even to himself, he hadn't mentioned the incident to his anonymous pen pal. He wasn't sure why, but he just knew he didn't want to share the happening with him.

Draco stood inanimately for quite some time, but he eventually moved. He slowing made his way back to the castle. His abrupt movement brought Harry out of his pensive stare. Feelinghis eyelids heavy, he blew out the candle that was admitting a small glow and got into bed. Although his covers were uncomfortably cold, he quickly curled up in a ball and warmed himself up.

Harry dreamt of a Masquerade Ball with a large clock chiming ominously in the backround. He couldn't recall the dreams the next morning.

* * *

Harry woke to the wind whistling audibly outside his window. He glanced out the window and saw that Saturday morning dawned bright and cold without a cloud in sight. After laying in bed for a few moments savoring the warmth and comfort of his bed, he grudgingly got up and walked sleepily to the bathroom.

The hot water felt amazing pounding against his back as he ran his hand through his soaking wet, black hair. After finishing up in the shower, brushing his teeth, and dressing, Harry walked down to the Gryffndor Common Room.

As he expected, it was entirely vacant. He wasn't too surprised considered it was a Saturday morning, after all. Harry plopped down into a squishy, red armchair near the fire, feeling the heat that radiated off the flames. After sitting there for a while his face began to burn, he took this as his cue to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast. The monster in his stomach gave a mighty growl at the thought of food.

Once again, he walked into a nearly empty room. He grabbed a pieced of toast and munched on it quietly. Just as Harry was finishing his bacon student began filtering into the Hall. He got up and went out into the Entrance Hall; the clock read eight o'clock. Harry proceeded to walk up the main stairway but two people were standing in his way.

"Oh, hi, Harry!" Hermione greeted happily,"Are you finished with breakfast already?"

"Yeah," he replied with a fake look of disappointment on his face. "Why don't you two meet me in the Common Room after you're done eating. Maybe we can't hang out?"

"Oh, of course!" she replied as Ron nodded groggily in the backround, obviously daydreaming about his four-poster.

"See you."

He almost cringed at his act. He didn't like lying to them. _But they bought it all_, he thought. He quickly ascended up the marble stairs, hoping to check the seventh floor corridor before returning to the Common Room to meet Ron and Hermione.

Checking to make sure the hall was clear (it was), he walked to familiar recess in the wall. Smiling to himself, he picked up the parchment.

It was shortest letter thus far:

_I want to meet you, please. Midnight at the clock. Wear a disguise._

* * *

**A/N:** Please review ;) 


	6. The Encounter

**Disclaimer: **If only I owned them...

**Warning: **You should know this by now.

**A/N: **Finally they meet ;) This was a chapter was something I was really looking forward to writing but I don't think I did it any justice. It was perfect in my head, but I couldn't write it just right. I hope you guys like it.

* * *

Harry could hear his own heartbeat over his heavy breathing as he paced back and forth in front of the Fat Lady. An internal battle was raging inside his head. Making his final decision, he stopped pacing andtook the shortroute to the Entrance Hall. Beads of perspiration starting forming on his head and hotness wasn't to blame. There was only one thing he was sure of at the moment: he hadnever been more nervous in his entire life.

As he walked to the meeting spot, Harry felt as if he were walking on thin air. First there was the thrill:The intense excitement of knowing he was going to meethis only confident. But after getting over thethrill, it left him only with hear:The fear the he would fall, plummeting to certain death. It tookall of his strength not to grasp hold of something in the hopes of preventing himself from falling.

He was scared... Scared of what he might find... Scared of what might change. Meeting inperson would turn everything upside down. It would makeit _real._ They wouldn't just be a letter of a piece of parchment any longer; it would be a real person.

Harry had the strongest urge to run... To sprint back to his dormitory and hastily jump into his bed, safely hidden under his soft duvet.

He had the chance. All he had to do was turn around; It would have been that simple. But he didn't, Harry chose to keep walking.

Even though he was frightened, at the same time all he wanted to do was to meet and touch the only person that knew him... The one person he was hopelessly falling for.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was leaning elegantly, yet casually, against the stone wall just under the large clock. He wasalmost invisible, seeing ashe matched the deep darkness that surrounded him, save the moonlight the filtered through the windows in a hall nearby. He sported a long black cloak that covered his entire body. A pale sliver of his face was the only part of him that could be seen shining in stark contrast with the pitch darkness. He looked oddly like his father whilst wearing his Death Eater robes.

Draco stared relentlessly at the large clock. Each second seemed to take an eternity as he watched it closely. He was nervous yet excited at the prospect of meeting _him. _He wondered what in Salazar's name made him propose the meeting, but he was genuinely glad he did.

Suddenly, the clock began to chime, counting down the last seconds until met his anonymous pen pal.

And then it hit him. _What if he didn't come?_ he worried frantically, becoming more nervous than he was before.

His fears dissolved as he heard footsteps approaching, just now realizing that the clock had stopped chiming.

At once, a new fear replaced the old panic. There is a horrible feeling you get when you have been discovered doing something you should not have been doing. You become light-headed, your heartbeat quickens, and your throat constricts; your mouth becomes unnaturally dry and you get a terrible sensation in your stomach. All the while, you pray to every god imaginable that you are having a particularly scary nightmare. This is how Draco felt.

He felt as if she should not be there. This was wrong. The prospect of them meeting was suddenly a very idiotic idea. He was contemplating making a run for it when a he heard a nervous voice whisper, "Hello..."

The voice was deep and gentle; it calmed Draco immensely. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place it at the moment.

He replied with the same greeting, hoping his voice hadn't betrayed his nervousness as well.

"Shut your eyes," he heard the voice whisper kindly. Wondering why, he shut his eyes without even the thought of disobeying, hearing a piece of cloth fall to the floor as he did so. _An Invisibility Cloak, perhaps?_ he thought but did not dwell on it.

"You do the same," he said blindly with his eyes still shut. Completely trusting the stranger, he dropped his cloak, shedding his disguise, crumbling the facade.

Draco estimated that they could not have been more than a mere foot apart. He could feel the ragged breathing of the stranger. Evidently calming himself, his breathing became more even.

Draco inhaled sharply as he felt a hand cup his cheek in an affectionate way. The hand was very strong, yet gentle and soft. The gesture gave him a small bit of confidence to do something he desperately wanted to do. He exhaled, letting out the breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and took a step closer, eliminating the already small gap between them. And then he did something without thinking, without giving thought to the ramifications or what it might lead to. Draco crushed his lips upon the stranger's.The strangerbriefly recoiled before returning the kiss. Draco felt a pair of hands being placed nervously on his hips, pulling them closer together. He noted that the stranger was trembling.

Draco intertwined his fingers in his penal's mop of unruly hair. Although he usually preferred neat hair, messy hair was suddenly more appealing.

All the built up emotion they felt for each other came spilling out. Draco confidently explored his mouth as if were laced with a drug; He just couldn't get enough, he needed more.

He wanted so badly to open his eyes and have a pair staring back at him. But no, he refused to betray his trust.

Their touches were tentative and slow but lustful at the same time. Everything that he secretly wanted this meeting to be it was. _Passion. Emotion. Rawness_.

Although Draco's heard was pounding rapidly and loudly in his ears, in reality the hall was next to silent. The only sounds that could be heard were the shuffling of feet, the rustle of a clock, and the dancing a tongues.

They broke apart, inwardly cursing the need for air. Almost instantly Draco felt the familiar hands rest on his hips once again. They began to play teasingly with the top of his trousers and play with the him of his shirt. The hands unexpectedly found a large wound, one that was particularly painful. His pen pal's hands immediatelybackedoff. But then they moved back, tracing the scar softly. He then bent down a kissed it lightly.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered whilst standing up.

It was such an intimate gesture that Draco had to suppress the urge to cry then and there. Nobody had ever cared like that... _Nobody._

Although nothing could express his gratitude, he replied. "Thank y---,"he began to say but was interrupted by the raspy breathing of none other than Argus Filth. _Perfect timing, bastard._

"Damn it!" Draco hissed whilst grabbing his cloak and running for his dear life with his eyes still closed.

* * *

After sneaking back into the dormitory in a well practiced manner, Harry lied back in his four-poster. He felt oddly content. He inhaled deeply through his nostrils, taking in the faint scent of_ him._ He closed his eyes and imagined he was still there. He recalled the smooth texture of his skin... The sweet taste of his lips... His gentle touches with his long, slender hands.

His taste still lingered on his lips. He wanted more... He craved more.

As he relived the encounter he vividly remembered the wound beside his hip.

Of course he knew about what his father had did to him... but actually feeling it... It was frightening. He was able to feel wound his father had inflicted upon him. A surge of pity mixed with pure loathing pumped through his veins. At that moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss the scar and make it go away. But he, of all people, knew it wasn't that simple and easy. The pain he had endured would always haunt him, that was for sure, Harry knew of that all too well. But nonetheless, he wished he could make it better.

Even though Harry was curious to who it was, he never dwelled on the thought. He figured that when it was time to know who it was, he would. And that was that.

As Harry thought about the wound, Draco Malfoy's scar littered torso briefly came into mind. The large, nastyburn he stared at...Exactly the same place as his pen pal's... His father... Malfoy's father... But no... Not him, it couldn't be.Malfoy was an arrogant prick who wanted to follow father's footsteps... He was a Death Eater in training... That is what he wanted to be... Wasn't it? Suddenly nothing made any sense. Thoughts swirled around in hishead mixing together trying to piece together what was happening. It could not beMalfoy... Just no... Harry could not be in love with his sworn enemy... His arch rival knew every single secret of his.. Just no... He couldn't, hewouldn't, he refused except it...

* * *

A/N:Please review! I really want to know if ya'll think of this one.


	7. Afterwards

**Disclaimer:** The plot is mine, but nothing else is.

**Warning:** Mild slash.

**A/N:** Sorry for such large gaps between updates. Honestly, I just haven't been in the mood to write this story. As I read through all of the chapters I cringe. It is way too rushed and eh... I'm just not happy with it. I do promise I will finish it and soon at that. I hope to rewrite it one day. Okay I'm done. On with the story.

* * *

The light that danced across Draco's face illuminated his pale skin, making him look like nothing short of an angel. The bright light must have disturbed him because his eyelids began to flutter rapidly. Suddenly, he opened his eyes. 

Harry woke with a start with the vision of Draco's piercing, silver eyes still lingering in his mind.

* * *

Draco was sleeping soundly when he heard a distant voice call his name. Through the hazy fog in his mind, he couldn't place the voice.

"Draco," It called once again, although Draco completely ignored it, preferring the pleasant dream he was currently having.

The voice persisted.

He flung his hand blindly as if attempting to shoo away a particularly annoying fly. "F'kof," he mumbled before turning on his side and snuggling deeper into his down pillow.

"Draco! Wake up!"

A hand roughly shoved Draco, abruptly pulling him out of the delightful illusion. Angry from being awoken from the dream, he seethed, "What the hell do you what!"

For a brief moment Blaise recoiled, but as quickly as he backed off, he stepped forward.

"What do you think? Classes, you prat." he replied in annoyance.

The revelation caused him to moan loudly in agitation. With everything that was going on in his head, he had wholly forgotten that today was Monday, and that meant classes.

"Damn," he grumbled while pulling himself out of the tangled nest of blankets he had made throughout the night. After stumbling out of his four-poster, he walked to the bathroom anticipating a hot shower.

Draco turned on the tap and on got into the shower. The hot water caused him to gasp quietly. He loved hot showers. The steamy bathrooms and burning water was comforting to him in some odd way. It was a nice, quiet, relaxing place to think alone. At the moment, Draco was trying to remember what he was dreaming about, but the more he tried to remember, the less he could. With each passing second the details became blurrier and blurrier until he forgot it entirely.

Draco let the hot water pound on his back for a solid ten minutes before a loud rapping at the door brought him out of his daze.

"You're going to be late, you know!" Blaise voice called through the wooden door. Draco didn't miss the emphasis on the word _you're_ rather than _we're._ Of course, being Slytherins, they wouldn't wait on him. This didn't bother him in the slightest, it was their Slytherin nature after all. It was expected.

After speedily dressing, Draco, Blaise, Grabbe, Goyle, and Theodore strutted down to the Great hall side-by-side, stepping in unison. Although it was quite annoying to walk like that, it made people intimidated.

Up until this point, Draco was mostly thinking about his brief encounter the pervious night.

He was amazed at how much he had transformed in a single night.

Sure, Draco seemed to be the same old Draco to everyone else, but in reality, he had changed.

Throughout the entire time he communicated with the stranger he could simply deny it, but he couldn't any longer. He, Draco Malfoy, could feel. Contrary to what most people believed, Draco's heart was not made out of stone. And every time he thought about _him_, it began to pump wildly, proving it's lively existence. This is how Draco knew. When he touched him it sent shivers through his entire body, and when he thought about him, he felt the strangest sensation in his abdomen. Draco knew it was love. And even although it was forbidden, he was_ in_ love.

His usually cold demeanor was still expertly in place, hiding how he had changed. To everyone surrounding him, he was the same as before. But he wasn't.

As Draco took his usual seat the table for breakfast he glanced around the hall.

Just think. The person I was with last night is probably sitting in this very room... Maybe even looking around for me, just as I am for him.

In spite of himself, he let out a small, rare smile.

"What is up with you?" Blaise asked while raising an eyebrow, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Nothing," he sneered in return, plainly stating, 'It's none of your damn business.'

Draco silently shifted his eggs around on his plate, his stomach feeling too strange to handle any type of food. Bored of sitting there waiting for his friends to finish eating, he looked up, only to a pair of emerald eyes staring at him from across the room. The brilliant set of eyes continued to stare, ignoring the never-ending, animated babble of his friends.

Great. Harry Potter is staring at me, of all people.

Even though it was slightly suspicious, Draco didn't spare it a second thought at why. But he did continue to stare.

Potter's eyes held a ferocious intensity and an unplaced emotion. Draco felt himself unable to turn away. Even if he could, he wouldn't. To him, their staring contest became a full-fledged battle, just like their childish duels in the corridors. Draco refused to let himself look away. He wouldn't let Potter win this too.

Potter. Even as he thought the name it was spit out with smite. Draco felt nothing but loathing for him. The damn Golden Boy who refused his friendship and made him look like the fool in front of his friends. The stupid Gryffndor who beat him by a hair in every Quidditch match they played in. The bloody prat whom all of the teachers adored and favored, unlike him, who undoubtably deserved it more. Harry Potter, the boy-who-should-have-died, who stole his father's attention away from him... who Lucius Malfoy always talked about and payed more attention to than his own son. The idiot who had everything he wanted.

Unexpectedly, Potter looked away. He stood up and walked away from the table alone after whispering a quick something in Ron's ear. Draco's eyes followed his retreating back out of the Hall, daring him to turn around. And he did. As he passed through the door frame, Potter turned around and gave Draco a small, apologetic, sad smile, bewildering the Slytherin to no end.

* * *

Harry felt Draco's eyes burning two, very deep holes in his back as he slowly walked out of the Great Hall. Before Harry could stop himself, he turned at looked at him once again, giving him a sad smile._ I'm sorry it's me. I'm sorry I'm the one. You have no idea... _Of course, Draco hadn't heard his thoughts nor got the message Harry was sending, he felt sorry nonetheless.

The whole idea of the relationship was simply idiotic now that Harry thought about it. How did he actually think it could possibly work out between two strangers? The more he thought about it, the more stupid it sounded, and the more he hated himself to thinking it would turn out okay. And now that Harry knew his correspondent's identity, it made it all even more pointless.

Although Harry would never admit it, even under Vertiaserum, he actually entertained the thought of pursuing relationship with Draco. That would be after he, of course, prevented himself from being Aveda Kedavraed when he reveled who he was.

After the initial shock of who it was, it actually made a lot of sense. Harry thought about how things could be. He never _really_ knew him, did he? He only saw the mask he wore. The real Draco wasn't the Malfoy he had always known and hated.

Even though he despised himself for thinking it, he needed him. Draco, for these past several fort-nights, had been his everything. Harry relied on him in a way he never did on Hermione or Ron. He had become his friend, confident, and lover. And Harry couldn't fathom his world without him.

_How ironic is it that Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived, would fall in love with Draco Malfoy, the Death-Eater's son? They were a pair of star-crossed lovers, doomed from the beginning._

What would he say? How would he react? Harry thought about all of the possibilities. He even considered not tell him at all, leaving him blissfully unaware who he really was. He dismissed the idea because he knew he would never be able to do it. He need to tell him. And soon. But how?

Harry's musings were interrupted by a very familiar voice.

"So, Potter..." he drawled out as Harry spun around quickly, finding himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. Harry watched, fascinated by Draco's pink-tinged lips moving ever so skillfully.

"I know I'm beautiful, but really, must you constantly drool over me? It is really quite disgusting."

"What are you talking about?" Harry replied forcefully, unaware of how to respond to a statement as true as that.

"Don't be thick. The Great Hall. You were staring at me"

"Oh...That." Harry fidgeted with his fingers while trying to think of an answer. "You were staring back." Just as he said it, the realization hit him. Draco stared back. He stared back without sneering nor making a rude hand gesture.

Maybe there was a small shard of hope?

"I was only marveling at your hideous hair," he replied quickly.

Maybe not.

"Whatever," Harry replied indifferently. He couldn't fight with Draco even if he tried. At the moment, he liked him too much to have a verbal brawl with him. It was too soon. Maybe in time he would be able to see him how he used to and hex him on sight but not now.

A few minutes ago Harry was daring to feel slightly hopeful at the possible relationship. But after the conversation with Draco, his hopes crashed, lying in a heap of rubble on the floor.

Harry stared at the floor mindlessly for a few moments, though it seemed like hours. He rose his head slowly.

"I'm so sorry," he said without elaborating any further. With that, he walked away leaving the Slytherin standing there in his wake, wide-eyed in confusion for the second time that morning.

* * *

A/N: As always, review.


	8. Hermione

**A/N:** It has been forvever, I know! I'm really sorry I haven't written in months. I could sit here and write one hundred reasons as to why, but I won't bore you with it. I'll just say that I am sorry, and I will try not to let it happen again.

**Warning:** Slash.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

* * *

"Something wrong, Harry? You seem a bit dazed," Hermione commented inquisitively.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sitting comfortably in the three squishiest armchairs nearest to the blazing fire. The Common Room was nearly vacant, with the exception of the trio and a few Seventh Years talking animatedly across the room. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were finishing up their homework before heading up to bed. Or at least Hermione and Ron were. Harry, on the other hand, was staring out the window, watching a light snow fall. He was in another world at the moment, thinking. It was quite obvious he wasn't working though; the single sentence on his paper was an indiscreet indicator for his friends.

Hermione's question instantly brought him out of his reverie.

"No... nothing," he replied calmly. "I think I'm going to head up to bed though. 'Night."

Harry threw his books and parchment haphazardly into his bag.

When he looked up to leave, he saw Hermione staring back at him with a peculiar look in her eyes. Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He smiled at her briefly, acknowledging her. She immediately returned the smile, but the strange look didn't leave her eyes.

Ron, unaware of the exchange between the two, interrupted.

"I'll be up in a few, mate. I just need to finish this stupid essay for Snape." Ron said. Harry was rather sure that he had mumbled something that sounded like 'bloody wanker' under his breath.

"Alright. See you."

And with that, he climbed up the stairs to his dormitory.

Upon entering the room, he heaved his book bag on top of his trunk and flung himself onto his bed, sighing dramatically.

He was, in short, utterly perplexed by the situation that he was now facing. In fact, that was all he was able to think about. _Really... What the hell am I supposed to do? _To him, there was no solution; every possible answer would result horribly. There was, sadly, no solution in sight.

He could tell Draco. _Oh, yes, that would be lovely, especially after he punches me in the face and curses me into oblivion,_ he thought sarcastically. He could simply forget and Draco and the letters and pretend it never happened. _But I'll never be able to make myself forget. He is the single person in this world and understands. I can't let that go. _He could tell Draco that he would like to keep corresponding but would prefer it if they didn't meet in person. _That isn't fair to him_, he thought reasonably.

Harry let out a very long, exasperated sigh and sat up. He looked around the room and noticed that soft snores were emitting from behind the curtains of three out of the five beds in the room. He quicky placed a Silencing Charm on the occupied beds ensuring that he wouldn't wake anybody up as he readied himself for bed.

Midway through pulling his night shirt on, he heard a soft knock on the door and the sound of the door opening and closing. Bewildered as to who is was, because Ron certainly wouldn't knock, Harry quickly finished pulling his shirt over his head, enabling him to see.

Harry let out a very long, exasperated sigh and sat up. He looked around the room and noticed that soft snores were emitting from behind the curtains of three out of the five beds in the room. He quicky placed a Silencing Charm on the occupied beds ensuring that he wouldn't wake anybody up as he readied himself for bed. Midway through pulling his night shirt on, he heard a soft knock on the door and the sound of the door opening and closing. Bewildered as to who is was, because Ron certainly wouldn't knock, Harry quickly finished pulling his shirt over his head, enabling him to see.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?"

There she stood in front of the door. She was staring at her feet when she began to speak.

"I know you have already said that nothing has been wrong lately, and I believe you and everything," she said putting much emphasis on the last part, "but I still wanted to make sure that you know that I am here for you, and you can always talk to me. Alright?"

"Thanks," he replied smiling, "but really, everything is fine._"_

"Okay... I just wanted to make sure. Just let me know if you need someone to talk to... or help... or just anything at all."

As much as Harry appreciated the offer, he was positive that she couldn't fix this problem with her cleverness. And although he knew she couldn't help, he figured it wouldn't hurt to get a few things off his chest. Uncharacteristically, he tried to figure out how to word the situation.

He slowly sat down on the bed. After fiddling with his thumbs for a few moments, he began, still looking at his hands. "Hermione... What do you do when, "he hesitated a moment," when you really like , even possibly love, someone you blatantly shouldn't? You know for a fact that it would never work... And it is just completely wrong for you to want to be with this person anyway, but you still can't help your feelings..."

Harry stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts again. He looked up to Hermione to see her reaction. A small, sad smile graced her lips. And although he never imagined feeling comfortable talking about this to her, after starting he couldn't stop.

"Every piece of logic in your mind is screaming at you... saying that it is absolutely ridiculous to even think about. And you know that there is no point anyway because the other person would never, ever possibly feel the same, yet you can't help but wanting to be with them... and talk to them, and touch them, and kiss them. Every second your mind is filled with that person, and you can't help it. No matter how badly you want it to stop... No matter how much you hate them for making you feel this way, you just can't get over them."

By the time her finished tears were running down his cheeks.

Harry quickly hid his face in his hands. After a minute or two of breathing heavily into his palms, he raised his head.

He look at Hermione straight in the eyes with flushed cheeks, even messier than usual hair, and tear filled eyes.

"You love this person with every fiber of your body, but you know by doing so you are just hurting yourself. Sometimes you even want to kill them because you loathe them so much for doing this to you. But in the end, you can't even do that because they mean so much to you.

"Tell me, Hermione," he pleaded desperately, "please tell me what you are supposed to do... because I just can't do this anymore. I can't take it."

"Oh, Harry," she said. She scooted up right next to him and put her arms around his shoulders, holding him like a child.

He sat there sobbing silently, and without tears. He was being way to open with her, and he knew it. But as he said, he couldn't take it anymore, and it felt good to get it out. Once he began telling her what was wrong he couldn't stop. He couldn't make himself, and he was almost thankful for it. He needed to let go.

"Listen to me, Harry," she began in a soft but commanding voice. "Unless I am mistaken, which I am sure I am not, you are not a Seer. You can't predict how someone will react or feel... you just can't. Those type of things are simply unpredictable. You never know with those types of things... They just aren't certain. Why don't you give it a try. You'll never know unless you try. And if you don't, you'll spend years wondering what could of happened had you confessed your feelings. The worst that could happen is only them not returning the feelings... And I don't see why they wouldn't because you are a wonderful person, Harry."

"I'm sorry, but you really don't know who we are talking about Hermione. Trust me, if you did, your opinion would change."

"No, it wouldn't," she said as if he insulted her. "I believe you should always tell someone if you have feelings for them because there is always a chance that they might like you back."

"Believe me, they don't."

"Harry! Stop being so negative and stubborn."

"Then you stop being so goddamn optimistic! I'm sorry, Hermione, but you do not know the entire situation so you can't possibly understand this," he said unmannerly. "Can we stop talking about this now? You evidently don't get it."

With the feeling that she pushed the line a bit too far, she bit back a retort.

"Alright... I'm sorry, I'm just trying to help, okay?"

"Okay. I'm going to bed now. 'Night," he replied shortly.

As Harry got into bed that night he couldn't help but thinking what a disaster that had turned out to be. He was quickly reminded why he had stopped confiding in his friends in the first place.

But talking to Hermione did one good thing for him: It made him admit something to himself. He did, in fact, love Draco Malfoy, or at least the Draco he spoke to through the letters. This was something he used to be very quick in denying.

Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking about Draco and how we wanted things to turn out when he entered dreamland, halfway between being awake and sleeping soundly. Though he wasn't in reality... It was just an illusion that had been keeping Harry sane for the past couple of days.

Harry awoke surprisingly refreshed the next day. Not 'I am ready to take on the world' refreshed but 'I know what I need to do' refreshed.

He knew, finally, what he needed to do. Although the thought frightened him greatly, he knew that what had to be done had to be done. He need to reveal himself to Draco as his pen pal, and that is precisely what he planned on doing.

On his way to breakfast he made a quick detour to the seventh floor, to the corridor with the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy foolishly attempting to teach trolls ballet.

At breakfast his stomach felt very uneasy, so opted to just sip his pumpkin juice. Hermione glanced at him every couple of moments, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

Maybe one day he would tell Hermione that he took her advice (most likely to blame her for his untimely death), but not today.

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**A/N:** Reviews are lovely. 


	9. Confrontation

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, but I'm sure you knew that already.

**Warning: **Slash, although I don't know why I feel need to warn because I most certainly don't think there is anything wrong with it.

**A/N: **Okaayyy, I haven't updated this story in nearly a year so I deserve to be Crucioed around a bit. I promise that there will barely any wait for the next and final chapter because I've already got it written.

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Draco's footsteps echoed off the walls as he walked to the seventh floor corridor. Even though it wasn't very early, it was a Saturday so the halls were still and silent because most were still asleep. Draco was glad of the stillness. He would probably be quite embarrassed if anyone saw him.

He was grinning like an idiot. He had one of those silly lopsided grins on his face, as if half of him was trying to make himself not smile while the other side couldn't help it. He was also mumbling to himself, about what one could only guess. If someone were to have seen him at that very moment the would have most likely said that he look like he was off to do something having to do with a significant other... Or that he was mad... Or possibly both. Really, you have to be mad to fall for someone in the first place.. Or maybe it's the love that makes you mad. Either way you looked at it, he was probably out of his mind.

After spending the night thinking, really thinking, he came to the realization the he needed this and he was ready for it. For the past couple of weeks, he constantly changed his mind. One second he was going to do it, and the next he wasn't. Draco kept going back and forth, unsure of where to go. But this last night of thinking made him realize that he had to make up his mind, and so he did. He attempted to deny it for too long. He made himself give it up. He was ready to accept the consequences of a real relationship, consisting of two very real people, not merely words on the piece of parchment.

He had to admit, he was very please with this decision, for now anyway.

Harry returned to the spot after a quick bite in the Great Hall for breakfast. He was very unsure. He had been sitting there for at least twenty minutes thinking about destroying the piece of parchment that he had removed from the niche, that now laid in his lap.

He heard footsteps heading to where he was sitting.

His heart began beating very fast, and his nerves were on fire.

Harry knew who it could be, and this certainly wasn't the plan. It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

His first thought was to get up and try to make it to the Room of Requirement, but as soon as that thought crossed his mind, another thought rammed into it. This way would work just as well. Plus, this way, he couldn't just decide not to come. He was already there and after thinking all of this it was too late to make a run for it anyway. The footsteps quickly grew louder.

He closed his eyes tightly and began to rehearse the words the planned on saying later in his head, but the footsteps threw off his concentration like something was repeatedly hitting his head. The suspense was driving him mad.

At once the hall became silent again. Harry willed himself to raise his head and open his eyes. Before doing so thoughts quickly fluttered through his mind. What if Draco just left? And ignored him completely? Would he even guess? Although it was too late to worry about it.

Draco's facial expression might have been amusing if Harry hadn't been so worried by the circumstances. His eyes were wide and his mouth formed a small 'O'. He was obviously confused. He blinked hard a couple of times and squinted his eyes a bit. Harry was under the impression that Draco thought he was an illusion. But to Draco's dismay, after blinking hard several more times, he became aware of the fact that Harry was just as solid as he.

Harry stood up clumsily, unsure of what he should do. A piece of parchment fell out of his lap and floated gently to the floor, but he paid no attention to it.

Draco looked down to the parchment on the floor. After staring at it for a couple of second, he looked back up to Harry. His eyes immediately traveled to the small niche in the wall, located directly across from the place where Harry stood.

When Draco's eyes met Harry's, Harry gave him a small nod, hoping that was enough. Harry looked like his greatest wish be for the floor to suddenly open up and swallow him whole.

Of all things, Draco wasn't dumb, but he also wasn't very open to what his mind was telling him either. In fact, he looked as if he would have preferred being completely unaware of this. Somewhere in his mind he was still holding on to the small hope that this wasn't what it seems... That he was just jumping to conclusions. If it wasn't for the hope, he probably would have left right then.

"It's me," Harry said quietly, hardly loud enough for Draco to hear him.

He didn't have to say exactly what it was that he was. The hope vanished into nothingness.

Although most of Draco's mind expected it, it was still a shock, hearing it out loud. He wished he was mistaken or that he misheard.

Draco blindly stepped backward a few feet, his mind still trying to absorb what had happened.

Harry was sure that he was going to run away.

His assumption was correct.

Draco swiftly turned around and began to run. He wasn't a coward, that was for sure, but he did not want to accept this.

He had never opened up to anyone before... Never... Not his friends or family... Nobody. He had never had anybody. For the first time he had a confidant, someone he trusted and cared for and had feelings for. I told him things! he thought angrily.

Draco was humiliated. He was embarrassed.

Of course, he was aware that the person was wrote to could be anyone, and he had accepted it. He knew it might be a Hufflepuff, for Merlin's sake. But Potter? Of all people? Out of the hundreds it could have been... He would have never guessed.

He had showed Harry Potter that he wasn't as strong as he tried to be... He was unable to withstand the pressure that was put on him.

And he knew! The little bastard knew it was me! He didn't look a bit surprised to see me there! he mentally ranted savagely.

Suddenly Draco felt a hand grasp his shoulder and was jerked backwards and slammed against the wall.

"What the hell do you want?" he spat.

"Damnit! We need to talk!" Harry answered.

"There is nothing I want to say to you, Potter, ever.

He shoved Harry's hand off himself began to walk away. For a second Harry watched him, maybe considering letting him go and leaving it alone.

"Wait!" he called.

Draco didn't seem to have any intentions to turn back, but after taking a few more steps, he turned back around.

"I hate you." Pure loathing drowned every syllable. "Nothing will change that. I know care what I wrote to you or what you think you know about me. You know nothing at all, so don't convince yourself that you do."

"Why are you denying it?," Harry replied, "Why is it so bad?"

Draco ignored his question all together.

"You're pathetic, you know that, right? Completely pathetic." Harry paused to watch the effect of his words on Draco.

"I'm the only one who gives a damn about you... The only person who you could talk to for these past weeks. And you are going to forget about it because of what? Daddy? Voldemort? You're disgusting."

"Don't you dare bring my father into this. I hate you because of you and everything about you."

"You hate me, huh? You didn't hate me so much the other night when we met, what about then? We've wrote to each other a bunch, not once did I get a 'Dear you, I hate you'. Why didn't you tell me then? Answer me that, Draco."

Draco remained silent.

"Who cares about the screwed up past between us? We were only doing what we thought we were supposed to do. We hated each other because of the opposite sides we're on... Not for who we are... Why can't we change things?" The things Harry had prepared to say were long forgotten. He just spoke of what he thought, unsure if it made sense at all.

"Are you done with you're little overly dramatic speech then?" Draco asked scathingly. "You just don't get it. Are you honestly that dense?

"No, I don't. Explain it to me."

"Ah!" Draco exclaimed in frustration. "Do I really need to? You may be stupid, but you can't be this thick." He took a deep breath. "I'm not going to spell it out for you. I can't fathom how you don't completely agree with me. We're against each other, Harry. Don't have any hopes the suggest otherwise."

Harry dug deep into his school trunk, determinedly searching for something.

"Aha!" he exclaimed when he heard the familiar 'clink' of bottles clinging against each other. He pulled out a bottle fill with a deep amber-colored liquid. "Perfect," he muttered.

After a few swigs and a couple minutes, Harry felt noticeably lighter. He sat lazily on his bed with his back against a couple of pillows and his legs sprawled out in front him. With a couple more drinks, he was feeling mildly euphoric and very carefree.

He was feeling pretty good.

And after a hand few more large gulps, he felt even better.

"Harry?"

Harry slowly lifted his heavy eyelids. After a minute of strained thought, he concluded that he had dozed off mid-drink, thus resulted in the state he found himself in now. His head laid heavily on one shoulder, a bit of drool running down the side of his face, and a bottle, nearly empty, held lazily in his hand, propped up but his leg. Good thing it didn't spill, he thought.

He finished off the bottle and looked up.

Although everything wasn't staying still and was very fuzzy, he could still make out Ron and Hermione.

"Sorry, guys," he slurred, "shoulda left you some," he added while he indicated to the empty bottle.

He stood up clumsily, nearly fell, and set the bottle on his nightstand. After waiting for the room to stand still, he made way for the bathroom.

" 'Scuse me. Gotta take a piss"

When he returned, he found that his two friends were still there.

Ron looked slightly puzzled and Hermione stood tall with her hand on her hips in a patronizing way.

"Uh, yeah?" he questioned, with a hint of anger in his tone.

"Harry, I can't beli--," But her thought wasn't finish because Harry cut her off.

"You," he started. He pointed his finger unsteadily. Neither Ron nor Hermione were sure who he was pointing at. "Can go to hell."

He swayed a little before walking over to his trunk and pulling out another bottle.

Harry didn't really care who watched him stumble though the Common Room and out of the portrait hole.

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**A/N:** Reviews would make me mighty happy.


	10. The End of It

**Disclaimer:** I don't own these boys, I just manipulate them.  
**Warning:** Slashy goodness.  
**A/N:** TADAA. The last chapter! It took me ages, and there are tons of mistakes. I hope that I'll eventually get the motivation to rewrite this story. Enjoyy!

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Not one Hogwart's occupant questioned out loud what they all were intent on discovering: Why have Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, the Boy-Who-Lived and the Death Eater's son, possibly the most infamous rivals in Hogwart's history since Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor themselves, stopped fighting? Nobody asked why, but they certainly sent one another curious glances when the pair passed each other in the corridors, making it completely obvious that they were forcing themselves not to look in the other's direction.

What had happened between the two?

The students missed the physical fights, duels, and arguments. They were almost as barbaric as the ancient Romans who attended gladiatorial contests for entertainment.

Once again, for probably the eighty-seventh time that week, Harry spotted the familiar platinum blonde hair of a certain person from what had to be at least a mile away. As usual, he stared determinedly at a particular spot on his shoe and continued walking hurriedly. He only allowed himself to look up when he was certain that Draco was long gone. Each and every time he did this, he could almost feel Draco mirror his actions.

He sighed.

There is only so much bullshit a person could take, and Harry was positive that he had met his limit. He was fed up with being a coward and with Draco ignoring him. He had had enough and decided that he wasn't going to put up with it anymore.

Later Harry checked the Marauder's Map and found that Draco had left the Slytherin Common Room and was heading toward the front doors.

He didn't mind that it was after curfew. He had broken that rule enough times to not give it the slightest thought.

* * *

"Draco," he called quietly.

Draco sighed. He had almost been there... Three, maybe four, feet away from the door.

"What now?" he hissed, not bothering to turn around. He most definitely wasn't planning on sticking around.

Harry got straight to the point.

"Listen... Why won't you even look at me? I can't take this 'pretending I don't exist' bullshit anymore. It's torture! Why can't you at least yell at me once in a while, or punch me, or just anything. I'm not like you. I can't sit here and pretend that I never felt something for you. So can you please... Oh, I don't know... Hex me here and there or something? Just so I can know that you somewhat acknowledge the fact that I am alive and breathing." When he finished his high cheekbones were tinged pink, and he was breathing heavily.

Draco began, speaking as if he had memorized the words coming out of his mouth, "I have no motivation or reason to acknowledge you. Before, when we used to fight, I did it because I wanted to prove that I was better than you. My father taught me not to harm my opponent when they are down. It is a cowardly thing to do. Only fight when they can put out their best. This way, when you win, you'll know it was because you were stronger, and they won't be able to challenge their defeat. When I was younger I didn't understand it, but now I do."

Anger clouded Harry's emerald eyes and he furrowed his eyebrows. Only when a questioning response began to form on his lips did Draco silence him and begin speaking again.

"My father may not be the most merciful man you'll ever meet, but he is fair. And Potter, so am I. I've already won."

Draco turned his face to the side, allowing the moonlight to wash over him his profile to be silhouetted by it.

"Fair?!" Harry began furiously, "How can you called what he did to you fair?"

" I deserved everything I got. Stop pretending that you care. Stop trying to save me. Stop thinking this will work. And damn it, stop chasing after me!"

"You know, Snape told me once that I worse my emotions proudly... He acted like it was the most disgusting thing possible, but I can't help but disagree. You act like this is so dirty and bad, but it's not!"

"The idea of love, or whatever, isn't bad. The thought of you and me is."

"You're so infuriating!"

Harry wasn't sure what made him do it, but suddenly he punched Draco directly in the face.

He took a few steps backward, almost frightened, unaware of what possessed him to do what he did.

Draco looked shocked more than anything else. After a few seconds of dead silence, Draco ran at Harry. Rather than launching himself upon him and attacking, he roughly shoved Harry backwards until he hit the hard, stone wall.

Draco pinned him against the wall with his forearm against his throat. He could feel Harry's strained breathing against the arm that held him.

Sweat tricked down the side of his face and caused his messier-than-usual hair to stick to his forehead. When his glasses began to slide down the bridge of his nose because of the moisture, Draco roughly grabbed them off and threw them into the darkness. Draco looked directly into Harry's brilliant, green eyes with his own icy, gray ones. Both of their breathing seemed loud enough to wake the entire castle.

And then suddenly Draco kissed him.

He had removed the arm was putting pressure on Harry's windpipe and grabbed his face.

The kiss was neither soft or sweet. It was raw and animal-like.

Harry gasped in pain and pleasure when Draco bit his bottom lip. Harry responded to his obvious command by opening his mouth and allowing Draco's tongue to enter. Harry's hands found their way up the back of Draco's shirt and clawed at his back fiercely. In return, Draco buried his hands in Harry's hair and pulled roughly. Harry's moan caused Draco to thrust against him, shoving him against the wall once more.

"Ahh.. Please.. Draco," Harry said in between moans while Draco was busy with his neck.

Abruptly, as if Harry's voice had forced him to come to his senses, Draco let go and stepped back.

"What now?" Harry said angrily. "You obviously want me too," he finished, gesturing as Draco's pants.

"Damn it, Potter! Of course I do! Why else do you think I've been trying to stay away from you?" he yelled.

"Now... All I can think about is you... And pretending I still hate you makes things easier because this just can't happen. It just can't.

I'm tired of this. We aren't going to argue back and forth about it. I'm saying it won't... Even though I wish it could.. And that it all there is to it. You're making it really difficult for me, so just please back off."

Harry figured that Draco was finished speaking, but once Harry was ready to respond, he began talking again.

"I was ready for this, you know. I was ready for whoever I might have found. I wanted it. But you... it changes everything. On both sides, we'd be hated by our own.

We can't get carried away, Harry... Saying that we're in love... because we aren't. It's a stupid infatuation. And we'll both get over it. It isn't worth it. We're not going to spend the rest of our lives together. We just needed each other for a little while... Both of us... We can't throw our lives away for something so childish... We were dreaming. That's all... Dreaming."

"But--"

"Harry. I'm right."

Harry didn't know what he could say. He was surprised by Draco. Everything that he said was logical. Harry had let himself get swept away in the idea of it. He hadn't thought about future consequences. He figured people would accept it or not... And that would be all. But there was more to it. Draco was right.

But wouldn't it all be worth it?

"But wait... this is real... Us... It isn't childish. Sure, some would hate us, but we would have each other. It'd all be worth the crap that would come along with it."

"No, it wouldn't. Listen to yourself. You're grasping for straws. We both have other people. We both will be happy without what we have. This brief time... it was great... having something... but now it's over. We got what we needed out of it."

"I don't agree with you."

"You don't now, but you will."

"Na, I don't think so."

"Eventually you'll get it... I've been trying to make myself hate you all over again. And it was working... for a while. I suggest you do the same."

Harry couldn't help himself from asking, "So... right after you found out it was me... you didn't still hate me?"

"I tried to... But after the shock wore off, well not completely, it still hasn't quite worn off, but after it sunk in... I couldn't. I'm not completely heartless."

"Yeah, I know."

"This whole thing... It's beyond insane. So now, can we just move on? Can things go back to how they were?"

Although Harry seemed reluctant to give an affirmative answer, he did.

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With a sense of deja vu, Harry's eyes met Draco's the next morning in the Great Hall. They both stared at each other for a little while, unaware of everything going on around them. They were completely oblivious to the bustle of Monday morning, with everyone running around, trying to find someone's Tranfiguration essay to copy. It was just them, in their little world, alone. Both of the couldn't stop themselves from replaying the previous evenings events over and over again in their heads. After they had finished talking they stuck up to the Room and Requirement and spent the night there. Needless to say, they were very tired.

The time for the first class of the day came too quickly. With a last smirk in Harry's direction, Draco strutted out into the Entrance Hall, heading for the marble staircase.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Harry yelled at Draco's back.

* * *

After that, things were back to normal, sort of. They yelled. They dueled. And sometimes, if one of them felt particularly adventurous, one would start a physical fight. And those were the best. The contact, between both, was exhilarating. Often during these fights, they would sneak no-so-mean touches, oblivious to those cheering them on. And when the fight was broken up by an angry professor, they both couldn't stop themselves from being disappointed.

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A/N: Alllldone. Please use your wonderful imaginations for the missing scene. Make sure it is hot and kinky.


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